


Failing to Meet You

by Wealthywetsunny



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Comedy, Friendship, Gen, Non cult AU, Sort Of, it gets heavy real fast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wealthywetsunny/pseuds/Wealthywetsunny
Summary: John tries to befriend Nick and Rook after his family moves to Montana. It...does not go well.(Takes place in a non-cult au)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

John isn’t used to being laughed at. Laughed  _ with _ , yes, but this is different. He can tell. He might be unused to all this—the kind of social gathering that doesn’t require a suit and neatly polished shoes. Where he’s only expected to bring himself, even if Joseph insisted on cooking something. 

His shoulders hike up around his neck, hating this sort of attention that’s been forced on him. He hates that he doesn’t know what to do. After all he’s been through, after all the shit he’s navigated through with sleazy lawyers and corrupt politicians he can’t do this. He should be able to but he can’t. 

He looks around behind him, tries and fails to find his brothers. 

“Hey, stop teasing the poor man.” Rook claps him on the shoulder a little too hard, makes him rock on his heels and startles him back into the conversation. 

Nick is still laughing, not really trying to quiet down and people are starting to stare. John swallows and shifts on his feet. 

“C’mon, it’s true,” Nick says through the last dregs of his laughter. “Look at him.” 

John tips his head down with a frown, eyes roving over what he chose to wear. He wanted to make a good impression, what’s wrong with that? Why would a nice outfit bring ridicule? People usually like the fancy clothes, they like the status of it all. 

Rook hums, eyes scanning down the length of his body and he feels himself react accordingly. His frown lifts, lips quirking up softly at the attention. 

He holds out his hand and his heart clenches when she takes it. Though there’s something in her eyes—she may just be humoring him. He brings it to his lips and lays a kiss to her skin, winking as he speaks. “I’m sure you don’t mind my clothes, darling, you look like a woman of fine taste.” He tugs her forward until their noses brush, their linked hands getting pressed between them. 

Her eyes blow wide with surprise—and that’s definitely a look he isn’t used to seeing. He wants her to laugh sweetly, to smile up at him and murmur something seductive. 

“Oh Jesus Christ.” Nick chokes on his drink, dramatic bastard. “You’re so full of shit.” 

John drops Rook’s hand like it’s fire. Folding them behind his back and tilting his chin up. His smile is tight as he holds back his embarrassment. Something he hasn’t felt in a real long time. 

“I’m right though,” Nick says to Rook even though John is still right there, “fucking nouvea riche, man.”

John is smart, he went to Harvard, he was the top of his class. He attended some of the largest parties of his time. He speaks French because that’s what the Duncan’s wanted and he’s dealt with assholes before. He knows what nouveau riche means, he just figured that a man like Nick Rye wouldn’t. 

It’s something that’s never been said to his face. Behind his back maybe, like as soon as he finished a conversation and walked away. But that’s the game of it all. You play nice and don’t say such things when you’re right in front of someone. 

John smiles easily, head tilting to the side playfully as he composes himself. He’s been angrier before, this should be nothing. But he doesn’t know these people, he thought he was saying the right things before and he was called names.

“My apologies, Rook, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“No, no,” she ducks her head and laughs. Cheeks heating up. “That’s fine,” she grabs his shoulder and jostles him, “just, uh, be careful what you say. People here aren’t...accustomed to someone like you. You kinda stick out to be honest.”

He nods, though he doesn’t  _ quite _ understand. From the sound of it he’s a rare commodity. Something to be revered. There’s no reason why these people shouldn’t want his friendship—all the things that come with being friends with him. He could give them anything they ever wanted, and that’s wrong? He flashes a practiced smile and pulls back. Turning on his heel to walk away from that mess.

He doesn’t exactly avoid Nick and Rook for the rest of the party, but he does hang close to Joseph. He watches his brother and he’s miffed. He sees people smile genuinely at Joseph, he listens to them talk about things he wouldn’t have thought to have brought up. They don’t speak of money or looks, they don’t talk about their recent business ventures—which had been his mistake. 

Joseph knows how to work a crowd in an entirely different way than John. He catches sight of Jacob across the yard once or twice and even sees him doing better than John. Making them smile and nod in a way he can’t. 

“John?” 

His head jerks up and he realizes that him and Joseph are all alone now, that the group dissipated. Was that his fault?

“What’s wrong? You look...I don’t know,” Joseph’s brows knit together, a frown settling in deep. “You're distant, I suppose. Are you not having a good time?”

“I am,” he says gently. “This is different from Atlanta, that’s all. And I just want—“ he cuts himself off, a spark of shame lighting up in his stomach. 

“You want…?”

He reminds himself that this is his brother. That despite not having seen him in years they share a past. They might still be working on bonding but there’s blood between them. That must count for something. 

John takes a calming breath, “I want friends,” he admits quietly. “You and Jacob are doing so well and...and I feel like people are staring at me.” 

“We’re new, people are staring at all of us, John. It’s only natural.”

“It’s not the same stare they give me, though.” He stops himself from picking at the hem of his jacket, doesn’t want everyone to know he's nervous. “You two make it look easy. You just know all the right things to say but I don’t. I thought I had friends back home—“

“I'm sure you did.”

“Then why can’t I make new friends? I thought I knew how to work a crowd.” 

Joseph huffs, and now John is really starting to get sick of people laughing at him. “That’s your problem. You think of this as ‘working a crowd.’ You’re a lovable man with a wonderful personality, John, you don’t need to impress these people.” 

John mumbles a soft “maybe,” and lets his brother head off to greet someone else. 

“Hey, you look lonely.”

John is entirely surprised to look up and see Rook standing in front of him. She’s smiling at him, like she’s happy to be in his presence. 

“I’m just observing,” he waves a hand and watches her follow the motion. 

“You seem one for mingling.” She steps closer, in his little bubble of space, “I thought I’d see you talking to just about everyone.” 

He shrugs, the action feeling strange and unpracticed, “didn’t go too well last time.” 

“That’s my fault, huh?”

John wants to, but doesn’t say, that it most definitely is. Manners and all that. 

“Nick was just playing.” She spins a strand of hair around her finger, looking off somewhere over his shoulder. “He’s not going to apologize because I don’t think he knows he upset you. If he did he’d be over here in a heartbeat, really.”

He narrows his eyes, trying to figure this out. Is she…apologizing? To him? She looks remorseful, embarrassed, like she actually cares that she might’ve hurt him. 

“I’m sorry. You’re new and ostracizing you like that…” she shakes her head, “stupid of us. I thought we could make it up to you.”

His lip twitches beneath his beard. Considering. Contemplating. This is new territory, but nothing he can’t handle. He’s navigated more difficult situations. 

“Make it up to me?” He resists the urge to crowd her space again, pushes away the instincts to seduce her until she’s falling over herself with want.  _ That’s  _ how he makes friends. “I appreciate the gesture—“

“So don’t refuse us, ‘cause I feel like that’s where this is headed.”

“I’ll admit it crossed my mind.” 

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. That’s got to count for something. “Nick and I are hanging out on Monday. He’s gotta fix his plane and he wants company.”

John wants to tell her that it’s her company Nick wants, but the thought, the mere prospect of making friends, gets him riled up in such a way that doesn’t fit the situation. It’s kind of sad, he can acknowledge that. He’s learning though. 

“So…” she taps him on the forearm, grabs his attention and stares at him so hopefully. 

“I’d be happy to join you two. Monday,” he confirms, “I’ll be there.”

She bobs her head in a nod and turns to leave, calling over her shoulder, “1:00 pm, don’t be late.”

John finds himself looking forward to that day, and as much as he would like to micro manage every small detail leading up to meeting them, the party was on Saturday and he’s got a day to himself. 

And Joseph wants him to do the grocery shopping. For the whole family. Makes sense, they’re all under the same roof at the moment and Jacob is searching for a job nearby and Joseph is meeting with the local priest in Fall’s End. That leaves John terribly available for errands. 

It’s not like he hasn’t ever done his own shopping, he wasn’t  _ that  _ rich. Never wanted to be waited on hand and foot. But it was all online. Finished in the comfort of his home with no one interfering. It’s foreign territory. Something he’s going to have to get used to. Maybe. Perhaps after Joseph and Jacob get houses of their own John will go back to what he knows best. 

His brothers aren’t difficult, they don’t have specific brands they prefer, and that should make this easy.

It does not. It absolutely does not. 

John is standing in the middle of an aisle just staring. Leaning against his cart with his head tipped to the side. Staring and completely lost. It’s just cereal, but John never...partook in such food. Maybe dry Cheerios when he was a baby. Stale Cheerios. But nothing sugary or indulgent, that was forbidden as he grew up and he just never thought of buying it once he got older. Mostly because it took so many years to shake off the Duncan’s teaching of sin. For him to believe that he isn’t a bad man. 

Do his brothers even like cereal? It isn’t on the list. 

He fishes out his phone and mumbles apologies to the people passing by. A couple clicks and he’s holding it to his ear, pursing his lips as Joseph’s voice floats out. 

“Yes, John? Is it important? I’m kind of busy.”

“Yeah, right.” He turns his head left then right. So many boxes. An entire damn aisle just for cereal. “Have you ever been to a grocery store?” 

“I—yes. What? John, are you okay?”

He hums, pushing at his cart gently to move along. Reading as he goes. Lucky Charms, Apple Jacks, Froot Loops, Trix, Jesus Christ he’s never been so out of his element. 

“There’s so many options,” he marvels, “and the boxes are so colorful and it’s just...happy. I don’t know how to explain it. Have you seen all the types of cereal?”

He doesn’t hear Joseph sigh exactly, nor does he see him pinch the bridge of his nose like he’s apt to do, but it’s easy to imagine. 

“John.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” 

John’s heart stutters. Love and affection is still new, even if he’s been back with his brothers close to four years. Even if they tell him they care, even if they hush him when he wakes up screaming from nightmares, even after the drugs and sex and how he tried to push his brothers away. 

“You, I,” he swallows, this is still hard for him. Telling his siblings that he loves them when they say it first. He does though, he’d do anything for his brothers. “I love you, too.”

Joseph hums, “I need to go now, John, finish shopping and I’ll see you tonight for dinner.”

“But the cereal.”

John hears Joseph laugh now. A small puff of air that shows his amusement. “What about it?”

“Should I...buy some?”

He wants to. He didn’t get these things as a kid and he didn’t even realize that this is what he’s been missing, this tiny chunk of childhood. He wants it now.

“Of course you can. Get anything you like, John, whatever makes you happy.” And the way Joseph says it. He’s not teasing or mean. He’s not belittling John. He really means what he’s saying. He really does want John to be happy and if that means a box of brightly colored cereal then that’s what John is going to do. 

Finding shampoo is probably worse though. It nearly sends him into a panic. He can’t...remember. He knew which store he bought his products from, but that’s an online store. Their warehouse is located god knows where because they shipped it directly to his door and he had a subscription. A subscription he cancelled when they moved out here because they were hardly settled down. 

He doesn’t know the exact name of what he usually buys or if it’s even here. He tries to look for the sleek, black bottle he’s used to, but so many of them look like that. 

He doesn’t want anything too cheap—only the best for his family and him. But something too fancy and Joseph will throw a fit, he always does. Says that John’s too frivolous with his money, something he’s almost positive stems from childhood when Joseph used to say the same thing about their father. 

It’s not like John has a choice in the matter right now. Seems like Joseph will get his way. And Jacob won’t care, too many nights on foreign soil for that shit. 

He grabs one at random that’s orange and probably smells as such, and heads out before he can regret his choices. 

Sunday goes and passes and Monday is here, it’s here and John is wondering if it’d be more acceptable to show up early or late.

“Why don’t you try getting there on time?”

John glares over at his brother, fists balling up in his lap. “Jacob.”

He grunts around a mouthful of food, eyebrow raising. 

“I can’t just...show up on time.” He winces as he speaks. Maybe just now realizing how silly that might sound to someone. “There are certain protocols that need to be followed.”

“Not here, it’s Montana.”

John huffs, arms crossing over his chest. “Like you need to remind me.” 

He takes the safer route and shows up early, not an hour early like he wanted, but only 30 minutes as per Jacob’s suggestion. 

Rook is blessedly already there, sitting outside on the ground and peering into the hanger. It takes John a few moments to work up the courage to get out of his car. Even longer to actually fall down beside Rook, dirtying his clothes in ways he hadn’t wanted to. 

She turns her head belatedly, “you need to relax.”

His eye twitches, lip curling up in a way he hopes comes across as playful and not hostile. “What gives you the impression that I’m not?” 

“Just the way you’re sitting.” 

John laughs at that, though he doesn’t say anything. Honestly he doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t know what would make her like him, or more accurately, what she wants to see. Until then he’s blind to this, stumbling around and making a fool of himself. 

“Thought I heard a car pull up.”

John can’t help the way his gut twists at the sight of Nick emerging from the hanger, glasses propped up on his head and a half smile hanging on his lips. He doesn’t look upset to see John, doesn’t seem like he’s about to make another joke at his expense. 

“You look good, John. Happy.”

“Nick…”

“I’m serious! I’m not messing with him. And if I am—“ he shrugs, “that means we’re friends. I do it to Rook all the time.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” She rolls her eyes with a shake of her head. 

Nick saunters over, jabbing a finger in her direction. “I can be sweet.”

“Care to show that to John, then?” 

John blinks slowly. Head turning between the two of them. He sees their smiles and the easy way they talk to each other. Like they aren’t worried about making a mistake, as if they don’t care what the other thinks of them. He gets what Rook meant now. Compared to them he’s not relaxed in the slightest.

He plans out what he’s going to say three steps in advance. They just...talk. 

It’s odd. Something he was never taught, and isn’t that a strange thought? The fact that he has to learn how to speak again.

“Earth to John. Hello?” Rook waves her hand in front of John’s face, laughing when he jumps. “Nick asked you a question,” she says before he can apologize for letting his mind wander. 

Then Nick is talking and he comes to the conclusion that Rook doesn’t expect an apology. He didn’t do anything wrong in her eyes. She’s easy going then, probably doesn’t take much to impress her, but that doesn’t help him figure out what kind of man he should be right now. 

“I asked if you know anything about planes.”

John huffs, chin dipping towards his chest momentarily before he meets Nick’s eyes. “I do. My brother was a pilot when he went overseas, he taught me how to fly after I bought a plane for him.” He leaves out the part where John was able to afford a plane for himself too. 

Nick makes an impressed noise in the back of his throat though, and John thinks that for the first time he must’ve done something good.

“We should fly together sometime.” And Nick looks off towards Rook and raises his eyebrows as if to say ‘see? I’m trying.’

John has to wonder if this is a game to them both. Because he had this idea in his head that they’d be great friends at the end of this all. That they’d see his money and his looks and everything he can give them and things would all follow suit after that. 

That…doesn’t happen. He tries to hold his side of the conversation but whatever he says seems out of place. Too stiff and wrong compared to when they speak. 

They don’t click. 

He’s trying to figure out why. Spends a lot of time sitting in the dirt and listening to the banter that seems to escape him. 

It’d be funny if he weren’t so desperate to have at least one friend. 

“Here, John.”

John reacts just in time, catching the beer can Nick tosses his way. He feels their eyes on him, waiting for a reaction. And he’s about to give one, to tell them that he hasn’t drank anything in a long time, that his brother helped him walk through hell to get where he is now. But Rook and Nick are both drinking and they want him to do the same. So he does.

“Didn’t take you for a beer kinda guy,” Rook laughs. And if she sees the tension in his shoulders she doesn’t say anything. 

He shrugs, tries not to think of how upset Joseph will be when he comes home smelling of alcohol. 

John hears Nick swallow loudly from across the yard, “can’t trust a man if he can’t sit back and take one.” It's...a joke. He thinks. They’re laughing. But it was rude, and at his expense once more, though that seems to be their way of joking. 

And he hates it. He fucking hates that he thought this would be a good idea. He’s a damn idiot. He sticks it out though, it’d be childish to up and leave, and he has to at least try and make them like him. 

Which really doesn’t work. He still feels this disconnect between them when he climbs into his truck and pulls away. They don’t invite him to another event when he leaves, they don’t exchange numbers or say they should keep in touch. 

They just don’t like him. 

They’ll probably spend the next few nights talking about him. That hurts more than it should. He should have thicker skin after all he’s been through. But when he gets home he’s pacing, fists balled up as he focuses on breathing. 

“They hate me.”

“Hate is a strong word, John.” Joseph’s back is to him, stirring a pot on the stove. His voice is distant, the words practiced. 

It only makes John angrier. 

He bares his teeth and leans back in his chair. “Shut up! Don’t belittle me!”

“I’m not.” Now Joseph turns, looking exasperated and annoyed. “Don’t play the victim. We’re family, there’s no need to yell at us.”

John snorts. Eyes slipping over to where Jacob is silently watching the ordeal. “I was yelling at you more than Jacob.” 

Joseph ignores that, turns back around to finish cooking as he speaks again. “I doubt they hate you. They have no reason to.”

“Well they certainly don’t like me.”

Jacob grabs his attention, kicks his shin under the table to draw his eyes over. “You’ll figure it out. You'll...find yourself, Johnny.” He shrugs, so nonchalant about it. “Besides, you can’t win everyone over.”

“I’m not asking for everyone. Just two people. Two!” He holds up the appropriate amount of fingers, putting emphasis on the word. “That’s not a lot. I thought...I don’t know what I thought. I suppose things were easier back in Atlanta.” He tips his head down and sighs. 

There’s a fierce quiet that settles over the dinner table after that. The sort of silence that is fucking  _ loud,  _ that makes you painfully aware of your heart pounding away in your ears. 

“For who?” Jacob asks, all pointed anger and aggression ready to blow.

John snorts, hides his apology behind a mask. “I think it’s obvious for who.”

“Are you saying coming with us was a mistake?” Jacob leans forward, eyes digging into John’s soul, it makes talking hard, has him making false starts before he finally gets it. 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Jacob laughs. It’s a cruel thing though, a bark of an angry sound that’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. 

John thinks for a moment that Jacob is going to round the table and hit him when he stands up. He just throws gives Joseph this look—this fucking look like they’ve been talking about him, his own damn family—and he leaves. Retreats to his room, which is better for John, he knows that. 

“We’ve done a lot for you, John.”

“I know, Joseph.”

“Do you?” Joseph backs away from the stove and nears him, palms laid flat on the table. “You just spit in our faces. If you really don’t want to be here then leave, no one forced you to come with us.”

Then Joseph’s gone too. Going back to his room quietly. Leaving John at the table with a half prepared meal and no one. 

No one at all. He’s had dreams like this. Though they usually end with him dead. A nice thought the more he thinks about it. But he just digs his nails into the palms of his hands and takes out his phone. Looking for an apology, some sort of gift to buy them to make amends.

John realizes, in some dark corner of his brain, that this is the problem. He can’t leave things be, he can’t say sorry, he can’t just be himself. He needs to fix things with his money and his status. But there’s another part, a more prominent part that is here to stay, and it tells him that life would be so much worse if he didn’t have this money. 

It gets inside his head and whispers terrible things. Tells him that he wouldn’t have had the few friends he did if he wasn’t wealthy. His brothers wouldn’t have wanted him if he couldn’t afford this new life in Montana. He’d be a nobody with nothing and that thought eats him up inside worse than the drugs ever has. 

He thinks, just maybe, that there might be something wrong upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Joseph was understandably angry when he smelled the beer on John’s breath when he came home. It left him feeling guilty in ways he thought he’d never have to experience ever again, the kind of guilt only his brothers could manage. Though isn’t that what family is all about? Having someone to want to impress, to hear them say they’re proud of you? 

It’s stupid then (because John really wants that more than anything) to go to a bar. To spend hours driving in a county he is yet to know the layout of until he hits a town and sees the glowing neon sign of what could only be a bar—or a club. Which would work too. Anything to get John’s mind off of how much of a failure he is. 

His whole life he’s been trying to impress people and all he wants to hear is for someone to say they want him. He doesn’t quite know love the way he wants to. Everyone should have some base level of love, some experience. Because you love your parents and your siblings and your friends. Though John’s really only feeling adoration for the bartender who doesn’t pry. She doesn’t ask why he looks a mess. Or maybe he doesn’t actually look too bad even if he feels that way. His slicked back hair has lost a few strands, he’s unbuttoned his shirt and his designer jacket is gone. Left in his car to try and keep some semblance of casualty. 

She doesn’t make any jokes about drinking alone despite how tempting it must be. She does introduce herself though. Shoves a hand out as she leans against the bar and waits patiently for John to look up from his glass of whiskey. Their eyes meet, blue on blue, and he doesn’t see anything there he hates. Nothing rude at least. There’s recognition though, there always is.

Carefully he takes it, grasps it with some strange warping pride that he knows he’s got the handshake to suit his profession. “John,” he tells her softly. 

“Mary May. I’d say nice to meet you, but I saw you at Nick and Kim’s barbecue and you ignored me completely.” 

His eyebrow raises, apathy losing out over the warring emotions inside him. “I—“

“Don’t worry about it. You looked stressed, can’t blame you. Moving isn’t easy.”

He laughs, dropping her palm to grab a hold of his glass once more. “Tell me about it.” 

She gives a lopsided grin, gaze slipping away from him to over his shoulder where he hears the door opening. Signaled by the chill of the approaching night as wind rushes in and makes him shiver. The cool air brushes across his spine and has his shoulders hiking up to his ears. 

Whoever steps in catches Mary May’s attention fully and she shoots him another quick flash of a smile before moving to the other side of the bar to greet them. He can’t tell if she pities him or not and he’s not too sure if he appreciates that. 

“John. Little early for a drink, no?”

He tenses, hunching further over his whiskey protectively. Like Rook of all people would take it away from him. She only laughs though, a bright vibrant thing he’s come to recognize. Then she’s falling down beside him, head propped up on her palm. 

“Funny seeing you again so soon,” she says when he fills his mouth and it’s clear he isn’t going to speak. His eyes slip over to Rook, glancing momentarily behind her to see the other patrons. 

He studies her, leg bouncing anxiously. “Did you come with anyone?” 

“Nope.” She doesn’t sound ashamed of it, not like he feels.

“Drinking alone then?” He probes because he’s a masochist and he adores the pain that’s laying in his heart right now, and sharing that pain seems like the only sensible thing to do. 

“Didn’t come here to drink. I did come alone though, after Nick’s place.”

He raises an eyebrow, suddenly feeling self conscious at the only one having a drink in this conversation. 

“Why’re you here then?” 

She tips her head side to side, weighing her words around her head. “I live here.” She turns and points to a staircase he hadn’t noticed before. “Up there.” 

He hums, funny how she doesn’t have half the luxury he does and yet she seems so much happier. One day he’s going to ask how that works. For now though, he’s capping off his glass and raising it to catch Mary May’s attention.

Words aren’t something he wants to be bothered with, Rook is already starting to tire him out. And Mary May doesn’t seem to mind. Doesn’t ask if he’ll have another glass of the same thing, just sets to refilling it and sliding it back over to him. Then there’s that smile again, soft and kind and understanding with a hint of something he can’t quite make out. 

He finishes his drink in less than five minutes, takes gulping swigs and ignores the terrible burn that sears his throat. Him and Rook are silent, though it seems like she’s trying to find something to say. She fidgets and glances around, shares quiet exchanges that John’s too drunk to sift through. 

It’s only when he’s into his fourth drink that she speaks up. Lays a hand on his shoulder and squeezes hard to grab his attention. 

“What?” 

He sees her eyes pop wide at his tone. Tense and short, nothing like she’s used to. Nothing like he’s dared to show anyone here. 

The alcohol has dulled his wits. Made him uncharacteristically angry. 

“Where are your brothers?” 

“Home.”

He sees her roll her eyes, though he doesn’t say anything. It’s a waste of time. She shifts towards him, knees bumping against each other. 

“They didn’t want to join you?”

He laughs, “no. They don’t drink.” He takes a sip, pushing it around in his mouth before swallowing. “Well, Joseph doesn’t. I’m almost positive Jacob drinks, just not like me.” A pause. “Not an alcoholic like me. He made Joseph real damn proud, a fucking vet like he is. And what did I do?”

Rook blinks. She blinks and stares. Then a hand falls down to his knee. Her thumb rubs around, tries to calm him down. It hardly works, his chest is still heaving when he speaks again. 

“I don’t think Joseph likes me.” It comes out fast in a rush. An impromptu confession because lord knows she’s the only one that dares get near him. He wasn’t the most outgoing during the barbeque. 

She takes it in stride though. Manages it so well it makes his head spin. “That can’t be true.” Rook sighs when John glares at her. “Every family has its stuff, their own shit.” She shrugs, but her expression is pinched. “Why do you think that though?” 

“He's just...disappointed. A lot. He saw me as a baby, as a little boy, and now I’m a different man. And in his opinion it’s not a good difference.”

She stares at him. Lips twisting as she leans in and dares to say, “you don’t hear ‘I love you’ enough, do you?” 

“Stop it.”

She grabs his wrist, stops him from taking a final sip and finishing his fourth whiskey. “No. No, you’re going to talk to me and stop moping. People are worried about you.”

He shakes her off but leaves his drink, instead he lays the glass down and stares at the worn bar. “People hardly know me.”

“And yet we want to help you.” Her hand is still on his knee, still massaging the skin beneath his jeans. 

“Why?”

“Because every life is precious, John.” She says it so simply, so sweetly and easily that for a minute he envy’s her. He feels jealous for her naïveté—or perhaps it’s faith in the human race. Faith he lost a long, long time ago.

He laughs, turning towards her to grasp her shoulders and tug her to the edge of her seat. “Do you really believe that?” 

She nods. “I do.”

He whimpers—he hadn’t meant to let that slip—and leans into the touch she offers up on his cheek a second later. “I don’t. My parents,” his voice cracks and he winces, “my parents broke me. They told me I was bad...and I believed them. I thought they were right for so many years...I still do sometimes. I try so hard to prove them wrong, to show them that I’m liked.  _ Well _ liked. Cared for even.”

He looks away, can’t take the fact that she’s holding his gaze so readily. People rarely do when he’s breaking like this. He’s had nightmares about all the times when he made the mistake of taking off the mask and watching people run. 

“They’re right though,” he whispers, sliding forward off his seat until his foot is forced to plant on the floor to keep from tumbling over. “Money is everything. The money I inherited from my parents has kept my afloat, it made people flock to me. People loved me so long as I gave them everything they ever wanted. Anything can be bought with money—even friends—and I suppose I was fooling myself to believe that they stayed around just for me.” 

Rook’s hand is still on his cheek, thumbing over beauty marks and the start of his beard. She stops him from talking just as the tears start, her other hand comes up to wipe away at the wetness and she shushes him. 

“I think you had too much to drink, c’mon, I’ll take you home. Did you drive here?” 

John nods, allows her to take the brunt of his weight as they stumble outside. He thinks for a moment that she isn’t going to say anything at all, that he poured his heart out to a practical stranger for no reason at all. She’s more focused on helping him fold his body into the passenger seat, batting away his hands when he tries to buckle himself in. 

She gets so close that he can smell her, that his nose brushes her hair and he hates the way he longs for her to touch him again. He wants that gentle hand. 

“It’s okay, John,” she murmurs when she’s seated behind the wheel. Starting the car and pulling away slowly. “I’m not too sure how much you’ll remember of this in the morning—“

“All of it. I’m a seasoned drunk by now. Following in daddy’s footsteps.” He pauses, ignores the sharp concerned glance Rook tosses his way. “Perhaps that’s why Joseph doesn’t like when I drink.”

She hums, though he can tell she won’t touch that topic. 

“I think you’re a little lost,” she starts, “you just need to ask for help.”

“No one helps someone for free.” 

Rook is driving slow, taking turns carefully and it dawns on him that she doesn’t know where he lives. 

“Perhaps not where  _ you’re _ from.” She corrects. “You’ve been burned so many times that you forgot that some people are just nice. Some people enjoy watching others prosper. And when others suffer...it feels like their own heart is being ripped out.” 

John considers her words, tips his head to look out the window and sighs heavily. His body slumps down in the seat and occasionally his head thumps against the window. The pain is nice. Familiar. 

“We’re here.”

He sits up suddenly, wincing when the quick movement makes his head throb. “Wha—?”

“Your house isn’t a secret.” She pulls her key out of the ignition, smiling at him softly. “It was a big, empty plot of land one day then suddenly there’s a house.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not done.”

That catches her attention, eyes widening in interest. It’s new, but John thinks it might be fake. “You have plans for a new addition?”

“Soon. Or well, I don’t know when,” he admits nervously. Smoke and mirrors. That’s all he ever presents. “I’d like a bigger house—like a ranch.”

“For your siblings?”

He shakes his head, stops midway when his headache gets the better of him. His hand rests on the door handle, teasing the idea of stepping out. He answers her first though. “No. We’re looking for homes. Or plots to build on for my brothers to live alone.” He gives her a wry grin, ignoring the flash of lights that flicker on in the living room in front of them. “No ones selling.”

She’s about to say something, her fingers twitching on the wheel, but the front door opens and his heart constricts just as her words taper off. 

Joseph steps out, Jacob lingering behind him in the doorway. Arms crossed over his chest. And he feels like a little kid again, as if he had no business to leave in the middle of the afternoon. 

“I should—“

“Yeah, yeah, let me help.” She’s fast, faster than his drunk mind is. And she opens the passenger side door and extends her hand for him to take it. He does, just to feel how nice she can be. 

His brothers don’t move from the porch, they wait with eyes only he can read. Though he knows Rook can feel the tension, and yet she doesn’t back down. Doesn’t send him up alone. She has a hand on the small of his back, keeping him somewhat steady until Joseph steps down to greet them.

Joseph flashes a smile, a practiced one. John can tell he’s embarrassed past the false nicities. “Thank you for returning him home.” He reaches out, touches her arm lovingly. “We were worried after he stormed out.”

John makes a dismissive noise in the back of his throat. He doesn’t want to hear this. Not at all, Joseph is making him feel inadequate, like a burden. That isn’t his intention but that’s how it feels. 

His hand bumps into Rook’s and he takes the chance to squeeze it. A goodbye of sorts. He waves without looking behind him and he pushes past Jacob. Pretends not to see the way Jacob’s scowl softens as he flies by.

Rook shifts, alone and not quite in her element. Suddenly feeling like an intruder. “No, no that’s fine. No problem at all. Just…”

“Just?” Joseph leans forward, fingers twitching by his side like he wants to touch her. Thank her again and perhaps ask what her relationship with his brother is.

“It’s not my place to say, but I think you should be more gentle with him. Softer? I’m not sure, he’s your brother, you’ve known him longer but...I think he just needs to hear some sweet words sometimes.”

Jacob steps forward, a hand hovering over Joseph’s shoulder before carefully pushing him back. “What exactly are you trying to say, miss?” He bares his teeth, angry so quickly “that we don’t care about our brother? That we don’t say ‘I love you’ or treat him well? Where the hell do you get off?”

Panic flashes in Joseph’s eyes. “Jacob—“ 

“No! It’s a bunch of bullshit.” He glares at her, this stranger of a woman standing on their doorstep with concern on her face. “She spends a day with John and now she knows him.”

Rook doesn’t act like she’s affected by his words. Only tips her head and gives a smile. “He talks freely when he’s had a few. Maybe he’s never had someone to listen to him, that’s the impression I got.”

“Leave,” Jacob spits. 

“Gladly.” She turns on her heel, glancing over her shoulder momentarily. “Take care of him. The whole county is watching to see what the new neighbors are like. It’d be a shame for you to slip up.” 

They watch her climb into her car and drive off, not quite slowing down past the bend. She’s gone in an instant, and so is Jacob. Spinning around to storm into the house. 

His head whips around, looking for his brother. “John!” 

“Leave him be.” Joseph grabs Jacob by his shoulder, holds him in place and is surprised when he actually stops. He’s under no impression that he’s strong enough to hold Jacob back, he’s just humoring him.

Jacob’s fists clench, he grinds his teeth together. “No we're doing this now.”

“Doing what?”

He throws up his hands, spinning around. “You know what.” He stares at Joseph, at the patience he will never have. “Don’t play dumb. He shouldn’t be out there drinking, he’s a goddamn alcoholic. He can’t go out and have one or two, that’s not how addicts think.”

“I’m sure he knows that, but yelling at him doesn’t work.”

Jacob snorts, “who says I’m going to yell?”

“You’re angry.” There’s a pause where Joseph just stares at him. Like that alone says everything. It doesn’t. Finally Joseph sighs and continues. “Why wouldn’t you yell?”

“I’m not mad at John.” Jacob frowns, eyes darting to the staircase. “I’m only trying to protect him, I have the feeling that those people don’t like him. They just pity him or they want to use him. They don’t have the right.  _ That’s _ what I’m angry about.” 

He’s about to head up the stairs again. To at the very least check on John, make sure he doesn't drown in his own vomit. But ultimately he decides against it, turns around to meander back over to the living room where he collapses down on the couch. 

Joseph on the other hand does go upstairs, he hovers by John’s door. Pauses to listen and sighs when he doesn't hear anything. Nothing to indicate the usual upset that John can fling himself into. 

It takes until morning for Joseph to work up to courage to go to John. To knock on his door and wait. In the end Joseph just pushes open the door, gives a loud “i'm coming in,” because he feels the familiar wave of panic set in when he doesn't hear John stir.    
  
So there’s immediate relief when Joseph spies John sprawled out on his bed, head buried in his pillows. Body moving with the gentle pull and push of his breathing. He stands at the threshold for a while and stares. Rocks back and forth on his heels before he speaks.

“I know you’re awake.”

There’s a pause, a long enough one where Joseph can round the bed and crouch beside it. “John.”

“What?”

Joseph sighs, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Talk to me, John, I’m worried about you.” His words garner a heavy, drunken laugh from his brother. Not the response Joseph was expecting. It throws him for a loop, has his mind spinning before he finds his footing once more and gets his words back. 

“I don't want to lecture you, Johnny.”

He cracks open an eye and scowls at the childhood nickname. “Then don’t.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? Just leave you to destroy yourself? I won't stand by while my brother drinks himself into an early grave. You need to let go off all that, John, this was supposed to be a fresh start. You promised Jacob and I that you were through with the drugs, the hookups—”

“I am!”

“Then what was last night?”

John can’t quite answer that one, he lets out an annoyed groan and closes his eyes. Composing himself before talking once more, and when he does his voice is softer, more worn out than it was. “I don’t know. A release?”

“Excuses,” Joseph says back.

And John, he’s tired, he just woke up and already he's thinking of going back to sleep. Of trying to forget the world exists for a little while.

“I just want someone to care. That’s all.”

“I don't? Jacob doesn't?”

John hears the wounded hurt in Joseph's voice, the pain that goes layers deep, maybe deeper than John can handle right now. “I never said that, Joe.” He sits up the best he can, getting up on his elbows to see Joseph properly. 

He stands, hands hanging limp by his side, “you didn’t need to. I love you, John, please don’t push us away.” He leaves before John can say anything else. Which isn't fair for him to walk in here and wake him up and give some half hearted lecture then not hear him out. Life isnt fair though, he learned that a long time ago.

John rolls out of bed twenty minutes later, he can't stand just laying there doing nothing. But after that it's a matter of what to do next, where to go. He found a job offering two counties over but so far he hasn't heard back, so for the moment, even as wrong as it sounds, he's unemployed. 

He’s never  _ not _ had something to do. It’s strange, has him wandering around the grounds outside his house envious of his brothers for having already started planting roots down in Hope. 

It’s when he’s sitting by the lake behind his house that his phone rings in his pocket. He picks it up embarrassingly fast, not looking at who’s calling first. 

“Hello?”

_ Rook. _

_ Rook is calling him.  _

“John? Are you there?”

He coughs, standing hastily despite not having an audience to impress. “Yes, yes. I’m here.”

She laughs and his stomach swoops. “Good. Next question then, are you free tonight?”

He answers quickly, doesn't think of the family dinners Joseph loves to have together. He doesn't intend to ever be separated from his brothers again, they'll have many more to come.

“I am.” He hears her make an excited sound, like she’s really actually pleased with the answer. “Where are we going this time? Another trip to Nick’s?”

“Nope. You’ve got a pond about a mile behind your house and a swim sounds lovely, doesn't it?”

A swim. Oh, now that’s interesting. He can't remember the last time he went swimming, maybe sometime in college at some friends house—an indoor pool. It was heated and there was booze and drugs. And John has come to realize that man probably wasn't his friend at all.

Rook might be. There's potential if she keeps coming back for no reason at all, if she hasn't asked for anything. 

“John?”

He laughs and it’s real. “That does sound lovely. I’m looking forward to it, my dear.”

There's a pause and she laughs, “‘my dear,’” she quotes him, “that’s new. Does that mean you like me now?”

He winces and looks off into the distance. “I’ve always liked you, Rook. You’ve been very nice to me.” And if only she knew the half of it, that he’s apt to follow anyone around like a lost little puppy if they only just showed him the smallest amount of affection. “See you soon,” he murmurs and he hangs up before she can say anything else.

He has to get ready. Christ, he has to find a bathing suit.

*****

Turns out he did have some swim trunks squirreled away at the bottom of a drawer that he doesn’t ever remember unpacking. 

He didn’t ask how Rook knew the land behind his house better than he did, he just drove and drove until he found the pond she spoke of, getting lost only once. 

He comes prepared, a bag slung over his shoulder with a towel and sunblock—the setting sun hardly means he won’t wake with rosy skin tomorrow. He spies Rook first, her back to him with her feet dipped in the water. Though there’s no way she doesn’t hear him pull up, nor spot the flash of his headlights. 

It’s only when he steps out that he realizes they aren’t alone. She’s brought a friend. 

“Hey, yo, Johnny! Rook your pal is here.”

John winces at the level of the man’s voice. He’s got a smile so wide shooting off towards John and he’s bouncing back and forth on his heels, only coming forward when Rook stands with a grunt and gives him a nod. 

When he’s closer, grabbing John’s hand and pulling him in for a half hug, that’s when John smells him. Smells like fire and smoke. Makes his nose wrinkle, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Sharky. That’s how he introduces himself.

“Sharky...is that your real name?”

“Oh c’mon don’t ruin this, Johnny-boy, don’t ask them kind of questions.” There’s no hostility in his words, just the kind teasing that goes along with his toothy grin. 

It’s welcoming. And John fully accepts the way Sharky grabs onto his shoulder and steers him towards the water. 

“We brought fireworks,” Sharky informs him when they make it to the shore and John sets his eyes upon the array of explosives. “For celebration.”

John snorts, “what’s the occasion?”

“You! We got more people coming, we’re throwing a damn party because—well any excuse to blow shit up, right?—but also because new friends are amazing. Means more people to come fuck shit up with.”

John blinks owlishly at this strange man, at this easily excitable, fun man. And laughs. He clutches his stomach until he's sore with laughter and Rook comes over with a hand on his back.

“You broke him, Sharky.”

“Nah man, I gave him  _ life _ .”

And John, he can’t dispute that. Especially when others start to show their faces and they smile at John, they shake his hand and give him hugs. It’s the most human contact he’s had in a real long time. Has him feeling tingly all over by the end of it. 

“I’m hoping you brought a bathing suit?” Rook asks as she begins to strip, tossing her clothes carelessly on the grass. 

He follows suit, for once not caring that he’s dirtying designer clothes. He tugs his jeans down and wordlessly raises an eyebrow. 

“And how expensive were those?” 

He shrugs, tipping his head. “Don’t know. Got them in college.”

He hears Grace snort behind him, “you haven’t bought a new pair of trunks since college? Someone needs to take you shopping.”

“Yeah,” Sharky is already wading in the water, glancing over his shoulder as he speaks. “You seem like the kind of guy who likes to shop. Which,” he holds up a hand, “I can appreciate, man.”

John can’t help it, he smiles, he can’t stop smiling. Even as he gets into frigid water and Rook splashes him—which is childish—but people are laughing  _ with  _ him. It’s a nice change. 

They talk to him, they tell him things and want to hear his own stories. By the end of it all he learns that Sharky isn’t a good swimmer and Rook only loves diving underwater and Grace went overseas and was trapped in a sinking car. It doesn’t surprise anyone that he’s a quick swimmer, that when Sharky challenges him to a race that he wins. 

It’s all in good fun though, and it leaves him breathless. Tired enough that by the fourth race Sharky finally beats him. 

He doesn’t excuse himself, doubts that anyone would care, so he quietly gets out of the water and falls down on his towel. He closes his eyes and throws a wet arm across his face. The wind chills his body, has him shaking slightly as he steadies his breathing once more. 

The peace doesn’t last for too long. 

He sits up halfway, leaning back on his palms, just watching. Breathing and taking it in. Watching these people have fun and laugh and play. No stress or pain. It’s weird, having moments where there isn’t any of that mess. 

And it dawns on him, when he sees Sharky look around and nudge Grace—when she does the same—and their eyes land on John and Sharky waves him over in such a way that would make someone think he’s dying. It dawns on him that these people may even  _ want  _ him. 

“John! C’mon! Lets play chicken!”

“Chicken?” 

Sharky wades over, stopping short at the edge as he bounces excitedly on his heels. “Yeah, you’re gonna get on my shoulders and we’re gonna take Rook and Grace down!” 

“Are we now?”

Sharky laughs, like the question is silly. “Yes!”

And John stands up, still dripping water and freezing. He looks off towards these people who are waiting for him, who are laughing. He smiles brightly, muscles going lax as something inside his head clicks.

Friends. John has  _ friends! _


End file.
